Asuma paused, then caught himself and kept walking. "Ginta, nobody's a 'we' with you. You're a little subspecies of weird all by yourself."

But he had said 'you', hadn't he?

One hand slipped out of his pocket until only the thumb kept it anchored in place; fingers hung loose to brush against the crimson-stained cloth of his sash. Ginta was fiddling with a Lightning coin, rolling it skillfully across his knuckles. Asuma wondered if that was his version of a talisman, or if he'd just picked it up and hadn't put it down yet.

He really had to stop fiddling with the damn sash. It wasn't like touching it would bring them back.

Annoyed with himself, he shoved his hand back into his pocket. "So what happens with this 'problem', then? I get another shot to fall in line, or are we looking at a report for a verbal misstep?"